


In the Dead of Night

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2020 [8]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nightmare, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whumptober 2020, but not very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: After an awful nightmare makes him numb, Illinois seeks out Yancy’s comfort.Whumptober 2020 Day 8: Where Did Everybody Go?Prompt: “Don’t Say Goodbye”
Relationships: Yancy/Illinois
Series: Whumptober 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947961
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	In the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not actually 100% sure this is dissociation? I didn't set out to portray it, but after writing this I felt like I'd ended up doing it. If that tag isn't warranted let me know and I'll delete it.
> 
> I'm proud of this story, tho, and I hope y'all like it! :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Illinois is hiking across a snowy plain, his partner not far behind. He’s bundled to the gills, but the cold is still biting, and the wind howls around him, blowing snow and ice into his face. It’s too loud to converse with his partner, all he can do is keep moving forward.

Behind him, suddenly, a deep crunching crash. The ground below him moans. Lio looks down to see a crack winding through the ice between his feet. He cries out in surprise and rushes away from the crack, looking for thicker ice. He hadn’t even known he and his partner were walking on a frozen lake.

His partner…

There’s a hole in the ice, and his partner is nowhere to be seen.

Lio shouts in alarm, and throws down his pack. He struggles to take off his overclothes, knowing they’ll only soak with icy water and weigh him down. It feels like it takes him an eternity to get them off. He steels himself, takes a deep breath in, and dives into the water.

The cold hits before the wet, and his whole body seizes. He fights against the frigid water, forcing himself to swim down. He can see his partner below, floating in the darkness. Lio grabs them, and with effort, begins to tug them up to the surface. The cold is heart-stopping, his body wants to relax, his lungs want to give out, his mouth wants to open for breath. But Lio pushes through it all and drags himself and his partner to the surface.

On the ice, he starts CPR, pushing down their chest, breathing for them, pushing down, breathing, pushing, breathing, and the longer he spends doing it, the more his partner seems to change. Their face goes from pale and blue-lipped to flushed red and covered in sweat, goes from that to burnt into char, goes from that to crushed into bone splinters, cycling through more and more faces, more and more injuries. Lio desperately continues chest compressions, desperately continues rescue breathing, but changes keep happening. His partner’s lips are cold, or they’re burnt and weeping, or there’s flecks of foam or blood or bubbling poison that Lio has to wipe away. Their eyes are closed, or half-opened, or wide in shock, glazed over, one pupil bigger than the other, or popped out, or smashed in the socket. Their color, when the color can be seen, is changing every moment. So is his partner’s hair color, and hair length, and style, and the hair is wet, or bone dry, or burnt away, or soaked in blood or brain matter, or the skull is split or crushed or deformed. Lio pushes down on their chest until his hands heart, breathes for them until he can’t breathe either, but nothing works, nothing stops the endless cycle, the endless parade of dead partners and dead faces that Lio can’t ever bring back–

He wakes with a choked cry, sitting straight up in bed. It takes him many moments to catch his breath, many moments for his heart to stop racing, many moments for him to realize that there is no many-faced dead partner he has to rescue. It’s just Lio, in his room, at night.

But he can still feel the chill of the frozen lake. He can still feel the dead weight of his partner in his arms. He can still see those many faces when he closes his eyes.

Lio sighs shakily before getting out of bed and leaving his bedroom. The room he’s looking for isn’t far away, and before long, he’s there. Still too disoriented and raw to think straight, he opens the door without knocking and walks right in without asking.

Not that doing either would matter much; the room’s inhabitant is asleep.

Lio reaches their bedside and stares for a moment. Stares down at Yancy, who doesn’t seem to be at all aware of the person in his room. His hair is messy from sleep, stuck up in little cowlicks and curls. He breathes softly, barely snoring. His eyes are closed and his face is slack, peaceful. Sometimes, just seeing Yancy is enough. Sometimes, Lio can spend a minute or two looking at Yancy’s sleeping face and come back to earth, gaining the ability to return to his own room and go back to sleep in his own bed. But he doesn’t think that’ll be enough tonight.

Lio goes around to the other side of Yancy’s bed to climb in. He doesn’t want to be held tonight, he wants to be the one holding. As he settles under the covers, the movement and rustling make Yancy stir awake.

“Huh? Doll?” Yancy mumbles, voice thick with sleep. He looks over his shoulder at Lio as Lio huddles against Yancy’s back, wraps his arms around his chest.

“Don’t say goodbye,” Lio whispers, holding on tight. His voice is raw.

“I won’t, angel,” Yancy whispers back. He puts one hand over Lio’s, reaches the other up to rub Lio’s arm. “Let’s go back to sleep, huh?” He yawns, snuggling deeper into Lio’s arms.

Lio doesn’t answer, just continues to hold onto Yancy. Before long, Yancy is asleep again, hands falling back down to the bed. He’s limp like the partner from Lio’s dreams, but it’s not quite the same. Yancy isn’t cold; his body is warmer than the blanket, heat radiates through his skin. Yancy isn’t silent; Lio can hear him breathing, hear the occasional snore. Lio spreads a hand over Yancy’s chest, and feels Yancy’s heart beating below his fingers. Slow with sleep, but strong and alive. Lio kisses the back of Yancy’s neck and lays his head on the pillow, finally feeling relaxed enough to fall asleep.

And fall asleep he does, with Yancy still in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment! They absolutely make my day :'3


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